What am I living for and what am I dying for are the same question.
― Margaret Atwood, The Year of the Flood
In search for my purpose
Did I set out –
On an infinite path choked with uncertainty.
Many a question did I meet
But crippled was I left,
With answers that birthed more questions.
Days, I spent counting words
And finding uses for semicolons –
But I was still served a blank page when
Thoughts had screamed themselves sore.
Bringing in politics
Excited did I feel for
My voice was finding its way
Through all the chaos it sought.
On befriending winter, we realised
We both had an affinity
For cold words and bone-chilling pain,
As they left us both
Stronger than before.
Sheds and cottages did I seek shelter in,
Strangers and old women – took me in,
Feeding on nameless sustenance,
And retiring with hopes of waking up,
But my purpose was not to be seen anywhere.
Fear and oblivion, I met
Succumbing to their manipulative love
Seeing sense for the first time in life
“Your purpose is within you,
Give up the search” they said.
In stark clarity did sight dawn –
The coldest fear unveiling itself
To be the warmest revelation.
Purpose gives meaning to action in the same way that structure gives meaning to data.
― David Amerland, Intentional: How To Live, Love, Work and Play Meaningfully
On a quick side note, Thoughts Gallery for September and October is currently open for guest posts! If any of you would like to share your works, please click here to learn more and to submit!